And congratulations to my new friend, Amy, and my old friend, Karmyn, who after fierce battle, came away with the highest votes for their turkey odes.  Snailmail your emails, girls…I’ll send those turkeys flying in your direction lickity split!

Here are the five finalists in the Butterball Turkey giveaway; it was excruciating for me to have to limit the field to five!  Please read the entries from the original post and you’ll see what I mean!!  Thanks to all who entered…I wish I could give each of you a gift certificate for a free turkey!

Poems are listed in the order they were commented (though for some reason, they were mixed up on the poll); voting will remain open until Thursday around noon.  The poll lists the author’s first name and the first line of their poem.

my feathered friend
i see you
over there, behind the fence.
so trusting, so gobbly.

When you hear the car
you come arunnin’
the boy hops out to pet you.
so sweet, so plump.

our friends gather
bellies expanding
"mommy, have you seen Tom Turkey?"
so trusting, so simple.

"no, honey, I haven’t. Use your napkin, you’ve got some gravy on your chin."

~ Amy  (nice irony…bless his heart!)

My Love, My Love, My Butterball

Oh succulent, juicy Butterball
into deep love I always fall
your crispy skin, your juicy wings
I dive within, my true heart sings
Oh Butterball, sweet holiday
A flawless meal for turkey day:

I think mine eyes will never see
white meat as lovely as you offer me.

~ Deb  (a love poem for turkeys **giggles**)

November Treasures

Trees rustling, the autumn sky

alo of cloud on moon or sun

fternoon game, a soft lullaby

aps on the sofa, chores not begun

ids on the sidewalk, spontaneous songs

amily stories, dessert buffets

ttered forgiveness, righted wrongs

ove-filled moments, love-filled days

~ Laura  (an acrostic AND a rhyme scheme–double the pleasure!)

There once was a bird from Nantucket
Whose thighs were the size of a bucket
On its backside was scrawled
And we fear since it’s gone that Pawtucket.

~ Swampy  (**snorts** paw took it!)

There once was a Turkey named Fred
who feared that he soon would be dead.
So he grabbed a big brush
some ink and with rush
painted his feathers all red.

"Turkeys are brown," Fred did thought
"no one will see through this plot"
but down came the rain
and with it Fred’s gain
all his hard work was for naught.

In the end Fred died on his chest
along with all of the rest.
But at least Fred did know
as his soul left to go
that he was a Butterball, they’re best.

~ Karmyn (a 3-stanza limerick? 🙂 happy sighs)

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